


Playing dress-up

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: BAMF Q, Crossdressing, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:52:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5754397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MI6 and the bad guys don't care if 007 is enjoying his downtime on an island. If England and her subjects are in danger, then the better get his ass into gear. Especially when his Quartermaster is also forced to play the field.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing dress-up

**Author's Note:**

> Well, THIS got into my head and I couldn't focus on anything else until I wrote it down.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and please excuse any and all mistakes.

If there was a type of mission that James hated more than the ones he was betrayed on - and those were more often than he liked, but then again it went with a double oh’s territory - were the ones that were sprung on him out of nowhere when he was on his downtime.

 

You would think that because it was so rare for him to ask for time off and not be forced into it like an unruly child into time out, they would give him a break and do their best to avoid calling him. But you would think wrong because not even a day in his six-pack tanning and that eternal search of that perfect someone who managed to leave him breathless in a good way the second they opened their mouth, they assigned him a mission.

 

To top everything off, he wasn’t even sure of what he was supposed to do. R simply called him up, told him to get dressed in the best suit he had, get on a boat that was waiting for him in the harbour that was supposed to take him on a moving island which was actually a casino, present his invitation to the bouncers who were armed to the teeth and start throwing his money around - which would be given back to him by MI6, not to worry - until he was invited at the high stake table.

 

Hadn’t he done something similar in the past and hadn’t it ended horribly? He had made peace with Vesper, but he still felt apprehension with missions that involved casinos.

 

“Am I alone in this?” He really hoped he was. “And can’t you give me a little bit more information about what I have to do?”

 

“ _The Quartermaster will assist you in person during this mission and he will explain in a lot more detail what you have to do. But because his plane had a delay,”_ James groaned on behalf of the poor man, knowing full well about his deadly fears of the flying machines, “ _so you will have to start the mission without him.”_

 

“Well, I was planning on going to the hotel’s casino later today,” he admitted. “But I still expect double pay for this mission because it is during my downtime. Or at least two extra vacation weeks.”

 

R clicked her tongue. “ _Not something I can promise, but I will forward you request to M and before you start blackmailing me please remember that Q would be forced to finish this mission on his own. Do you want to risk getting the Quartermaster wounded because you were too busy rolling around in the sand with a stranger?”_

 

Of course he didn’t. Q was very special to him and he cared deeply for him, maybe even more than he was supposed to. Although young and with a big mouth, never shying from putting Bond in his place, speaking his mind when needed, and always scolding him in front of both senior and young agents when he did something he wasn’t supposed to, James couldn’t help but admire him for doing that even though he usually found those habits annoying - he always asked the others who did this to him if it wasn’t enough that he was risking his life for them while they were safe and sound hundreds and sometimes thousands of kilometres away.

 

“I am on my way,” he grumbled. “And just so you know, that was a really dirty move you just pulled, R.”

 

“ _I take no pleasure in that, Bond, but I do what I have to keep my Quartermaster safe and free of bullet holes_.”

 

Though seen and worshipped as a God or as an Overlord by the vast majority of MI6, all the field agents lovingly referring to the boffins as minions, everyone was more than aware of the fact that Q was nothing but mortal. And if they had a doubt, then that time he fainted after helping 004, 009 and Bond himself during their missions one after another and then promptly fainted was all the proof they needed.

 

They had all flocked to medical when that happened, almost breaking down the doors. M had to order everyone back to their posts, threatening to fire them or relocate them on the ends of the earth if they refused to do what they were told.

 

Bond had filled Q’s room with flowers and sweets - the Quartermaster had a huge sweet tooth - when he returned, although he had done it anonymously but he might have given himself away because he always grinned when he saw Q devour the sweets, practically hissing at whoever tried to steal some from him - he did offer Bond some though and he always reminded the other agents about how he was obviously Q’s favourite.

 

“If we are talking about keeping the Quartermaster safe,” James started, unable to keep the accusatory tone hidden, “why is he the one out of all the available boffins doing this? He missed me, didn’t he? _”_ He actually hoped he did because he sure as hell missed the skinny man, now that he thought about it.

 

“ _Bond_ ,” she breathed out in an annoyed way, “ _believe it or not, but the Quartermaster was also on vacation_.” He was? “ _Just two islands away from where you are_.” So close? He could have shared a beach with the man and bar hop with him? Because Q was a great bar hopper and he actually managed to drink 004 under the table. “ _Had to point out you’d do something incredibly stupid to get him to do this.”_

 

If the Quartermaster was reluctant to go on a mission, just how important or life-threatening was it? “Did either one of us do anything bad to be punished with this, R? Or rather, did I do anything bad that Q covered only for M to find out to get stuck with this mission?”

 

“ _I do not understand how Q can put up with you, honestly. I’ve been talking to you for just ten minutes and I want to reach through the phone and bash your head against something_ ,” R grumbled, yawning and it finally dawned on James that in London it was three in the morning. Poor woman was probably sleeping when someone dumped this on her.

 

“I’ll bring you something nice for putting up with me,” he promised. “Now while I have done something more on the phone than strip—” The connection cut that second and James chuckled as he tossed his phone on the bed. “Thank God I brought my white tux with me.”

 

***

 

He almost got into a fight with the bouncers when they asked for his phone, but other than that the first part of his mission went perfectly. It didn’t take more than losing fifteen thousand pounds and winning back sixty to be called to the table he needed to be and frankly, James was having a great time. The men were clearly all part of various crime syndicates, but he had to admit that they had good jokes every now and then and the women that were nothing more than their jewellery were quite a sight to behold.

 

But he had yet to see Q and he was starting to worry. Why was it taking him so long to get here if he was just three islands away? True, it had taken him an hour to reach this place from where he was and the closest island that was opened to the public was two hours away from the island he was on, but it was taking the man too damned long. Had he gotten sick? Had he gotten captured on his way here? Had the plane been shot down?

 

“Mister Bond, you look a bit pale,” one of his poker partners said, laughing. “Could it be that the hand you have is not a winning one?”

 

He had four of a kind made out of aces, with a King as his fifth card which rendered the royal flush impossible and he doubted that anyone had a straight flush. It was virtually impossible for him to lose this hand, but he couldn’t care less about that if he tried. He needed to find Q and see what the bloody mission was.

 

“Since Lady Luck has abandoned me as well as the feeling in my legs, I think I will stretch for a few minutes.” He held his hands up to allow the silent bodyguards to pat him down to be sure that he hadn’t been cheating and the dealer closed off his side of the table, placing a car with how much money he had over the chips.

 

“Don’t take too long, Bond. I want my money back.”

 

He walked around the casino for twenty minutes, searching for Q in every nook and corner, asking four different waiters if anyone had called or asked for him and he eventually slumped in a chair at the main bar, trying his best to ignore the beautiful woman that was brushing against him.

 

“While normally I would do everything in my power to get you to leave with me, miss, I am not in the mood for…” He trailed off when he looked up, mouth falling open.

 

“That’s good, Bond, because I am also not in the mood for your games or jokes,” Q hissed, glaring at him. “Seven people have hit on me so far and I am pretty sure that one of them offered me a job as a call girl.”

 

James blinked slowly, having a hard time believing what he was seeing. Q was a thin man that reminded Bond of a fae with a knack for technology half the time and the way he moved was elegant, but he never thought he’d manage to make such a convincing woman. He had what appeared to be a silk scarf wrapped around his neck to hide his Adam’s apple, a wig – the shade of brown was too bright to be Q’s natural colour and it didn’t look as soft or inviting as it usually did – and contact lenses to make up for the fact that Q had to ditch his glasses. He also had breasts and James was tempted to lean close and give them a squeeze to see what they were made of.

 

“Don’t you even think about it, Bond,” Q hissed again, slightly turning away from him. “That is considered sexual harassment and I will roundhouse kick you off of this bloody boat even if the whole mission goes to hell.” He tried to make himself look smaller, obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation.

 

James felt really bad for Q and edged closer to him, trying to act like some kind of a wall for him. “Whoever did your make-up and dressed you up did a really great job. You are a really beautiful woman.”

 

While he had the tendency to make compliments towards women and certain men that were not always 100% truthful in the hopes of getting them to keep him warm and entertained for the night, he was being fully honest with Q. He was seeing him with the same eyes he did when he was slightly buzzed and watched the man living it up on the dance floor, the only difference was now that he was sober and things were starting to make sense.

 

“Maybe they did a too good of a job if you are treating me like one of your would-be one night stands,” Q whispered, his voice no longer a reminiscent of a snake’s. “I am not a woman, nor do I indulge in dressing up like this in my time off. Not that I judge people who do—”

 

“It is simply not your cup of tea, yes I understand,” James interrupted him, signalling the bartender over so he could order Q’s usual – which, of course, was embedded deep in his brain. “You still put everyone to shame and I am sure you would have done the same if you came dressed in a suit or tux, although I have yet to be blessed with that sight.”

 

Q snorted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, straightening in his seat – and now James wished he didn’t because he caught the eyes on the man on the other side of the bar. “You have yet to destroy any of my gadgets and it is highly unlikely you will during this mission because other than the tiny gun I have in my _purse_ ,” he looked like he had a hard time believing that he actually said that, “and the little device that’s already glued next to the main computer of this oversized boat, there is nothing for us to use, so drop the sweet act and go do what you are supposed to do.”

 

“And what exactly am I supposed to do?” James asked, feeling insulted and irritated that Q would assume he was being nice to him only when he screwed up.

 

Taking a sip of his cocktail and licking his lips, a move that made James regret he bought him the drink, Q smiled apologetically. “Sorry, forgot I did not brief you. You need to keep the man who is currently glaring holes in your head – don’t turn around or else he’ll realize we are talking about him – is the owner of this gangster paradise. Some people that MI6 have their eyes on come here and some even spill their guts alongside their account numbers. I am currently in their main computer, copying and sending every file they have to my branch.”

 

“And I have to keep him distracted until that’s done, right?” James asked and Q nodded, turning with his back to the room when their target approached them.

 

“Mister Bond, are you coming back to the table or are you afraid that Lady Luck has permanently abandoned you for the night?” The man teased, placing his large hand on Q’s back which made James want to rip it off and beat him to death with it especially since Q tried to make himself even smaller and looked absolutely disgusted. “Or maybe this pretty little thing is more interesting than our little game?”

 

A thousand times yes, James wanted to say, but Q was looking at him in a way that made it clear he had to be careful not to insult their target. “I feel as if the young lady would bring me luck and I am trying to convince her to join me at the table.” Q looked like he was about to murder him, but James was willing to risk it because he could make sure that no one was going to harass Q.

 

“I am afraid I bring the worst of luck,” Q said in a thin, whispered voice, trying to sound as feminine as possible.

 

“Well, if she’s playing hard to get, then I can lend you one of my lucky charms,” the sleazy man said, turning to look back at the poker table where the women started to giggle and wave in James’ direction. “And I am sure that you’ll get my lucky charm to follow you all the way to the bedroom, if you so wish.”

 

Q huffed and excused ‘herself’, accidentally stepping on the man’s foot and elbowing James before he could grab 'her’ arm and keep 'her’ from sitting down at a small table. Of course a man walked right up to Q and sat down without even asking if it was okay for him to do so, proceeding to hit on him. Before James could do anything stupid, such as walk away from his target who was dragging him back to the table he was supposed to be in favour punching the bastard - who had absolutely no chance in Hell with the young man in drag -in the face, Q promptly tossed his drink in his face and ordered him away before he chucked the glass at his head.

 

“Is sir satisfied with his cards or does he wish to try his luck again?” The dealer asked, trying his best not to sound like he was getting impatient.

 

James glanced at them - one pair of threes, a king, a ten and a Queen - and decided to risk for a high straight. “Two cards.” He picked up the new ones, glancing at Q’s table when he heard a low slap, almost growling when he saw yet another man sitting there, holding his right side of his face.

 

His bet paid off as he did indeed get a straight and managed to beat the other hands who were simple one or two pairs. By the third new round, Q was turning down a couple and James decided that he had enough. Q was going to sit next to him and be safe to count down the minutes until they could all get out of there, mission be damned.

 

“What the hell are you doing, Bond?” Q had reverted to sounding like a snake, but because he was hissing in the agent’s ear while being dragged away, James found it hot instead of threatening.

 

“Ensuring that my Quartermaster is safe,” James muttered back. “I also can’t concentrate on my mission if you keep slapping bastards because I am afraid one of them will actually manage to keep their wits about them for long enough to slap back. Now sit in my lap, beat me up later and look pretty.” He pretty much ordered Q as he sat back down and pulled him in his lap, forcing Q to wrap his arms around his neck to keep from falling off.

 

“You’ll pay for this, of course,” Q warned, nipping James’ ear. “Also, the name on my invitation said Jacqueline. Try to remember it.”

 

“You are a man to my tastes, Mister Bond,” their target spoke up, grinning as he looked at Q. “Not giving up until you got what you wanted. That a trait that I like in a man.”

 

If that so called trait extended to when a woman clearly said no, Bond liked to shoot those men in their dick and he got the disgusting impression that he was playing poker with a man that needed a bit of led down there.

 

The game continued and Q started to dig his fake nails in the back of James’ neck when it came to how many cards he wanted to change. He smiled when James picked the right ones to change, sighed when he selected the wrong ones and rubbed his head against his when the hand James had was perfect - and he quite liked it when that happened because sometimes, Q even brushed his lips against his cheek, giggling afterwards, using his slender fingers to carefully wipe away the lipstick marks.

 

Much to his shame, he realized pretty late in the game what Q was doing. “Remind me never to play this with you since you are counting cards,” he whispered against Q’s ear, Q giggling and covering his mouth as if James had told him something incredibly dirty.

 

“I still want half of what you win, Bond. Though I am willing to trade it for you silence,” Q said carefully, grabbing James’ hand before the man could run it up his leg, his purse vibrating for just a second. “I am sorry, darling,” he said out loud and ran his hand down James’ face which made the man feel all sort of things he shouldn’t, “but I have to go powder my nose.” He winked and got up, surprised when James tugged him back down.

 

“Will you give me a kiss for good luck, my little charm?” He was going to be served his own balls for breakfast, but Q’s lips were extremely soft and his skin had become addicted to how they felt and James wanted everyone in the casino to know that he was taken by a high roller.

 

“Mister Bond—”

 

“James, please, unless it pleases you to call me ‘mister’, ‘master’ or ‘sir’. And on the cheek, of course,” he interrupted Q before he could turn him down, sure now that he was going to also be served his dick and his own tongue and stuck with using water guns and paperclips for the next ten missions or so, but totally worth it because the kiss gave him goose bumps as well as another good whiff of the slightly spicy perfume he had used - delicate, but still strong; just perfect for Q.

 

“I will be right back, _James_.” The way he said his name made James dizzy and he watched Q as he zigzagged like a pro around the waiters and the tables, disappearing from his sight

 

He didn’t come right back. In fact, fifteen minutes and three games later, James felt like he was about to implode with how worried he was. Something had happened, he was sure, and Q was most definitely in trouble, but since the owner was grinning at him as he was winning all his money back made it clear that Q’s game had yet to be discovered.

 

“Seems your lady friend has given you the slip along with your luck,” said his target, his grin much too large and much too mocking for James’ liking. “Perhaps you will now take me up on my offer and continue to enjoy the night alongside one of my pretty young things? I have brown haired ones that are as thin as a rake, if that is what you fancy.”

 

“I admit to being worried, only because the young lady–”

 

“What was her name? She talks so low that I am afraid I missed it if she introduced herself,” he interrupted him, eyes narrowed.

 

“Jacqueline, although she did not reveal her family name,” James said carefully, noting that one of the waiters instantly disappeared from the table. So the man was starting to suspect something was up and he was having his pawns checking everything out. He had to find Q and get out of there as fast as possible. “I will take another short break if that is quite alright with everyone?”

 

“I’ll miss robbing you blind,” one of the bastards said, “but I understand your need for that pretty young thing.”

 

James narrowed his eyes, telling himself that he was going to put extra distance between Q and this stain on society.

 

It didn’t take long for James to find Q; he simply followed the trail of seemingly sealed doors that opened the second he approached them, finding passed guards of various sizes behind them. He had counted at least fifteen when he finally reached the last set of doors against which three extra-large men threw themselves, hoping to bust it down.

 

By the time they realized James was there, one of them was already knocked out. A short fight followed in which a desk was broken as well as all the chairs and pots, the last bodyguard proving to be quite resistant. The man actually managed to get the upper hand on James and while he was strangling him with a sick, sadistic smile on, the doors to the office opened and Q stepped out, pointed a little gun at him and squeezed the trigger, shocking him into unconsciousness.

 

“You’re going to have to make sure that the owner is too drunk to come back here. The security tapes are playing in a loop and I can render the communication system for this part of the 'island’ completely useless, so the man won’t discovered what we did until we’re long gone,” he started to explain, arranging his wig as if he hadn’t just knocked out a mountain.

 

But James couldn’t care less. His heart was close to jumping out of his chest and in two steps, he was next to Q, turning him around and checking to be sure that he didn’t have a single scratch on him. He would never forgive himself if something bad had happened to the young man. Q was the Quartermaster, not a field agent, not a double oh agent. Q was supposed to sit in his lair, not dress up and put himself in danger.

 

“Bond!” Q shouted right in his ear and the white noise in his head stopped suddenly, all the images of Q lying in his own blood with his head in a weird position dispersing from his mind. He realized that he was hugging him, shaking slightly. Q was hugging him back, and his eyes were filled with worry. “Bond, are you with me now?”

 

Coughing and stepping back, James felt embarrassed for the first time in forever. “I apologize, Quartermaster. I don’t know what got over me.”

 

“It’s alright, Bond. I am safe,” Q reassured him, smiling as he started to ruffle James’ suit a bit. “I’ll smudge my lipstick a little to explain why we both took this long. Perverted as the man is, he’ll ignore the part where I was missing for longer or imagine something else.”

 

He was tempted to pull Q in a kiss and smudge his lipstick for real, but he held back. “Can I break their necks if they ask you to do a repeat with them?”

 

“No,” Q said shortly, wiggling his finger right under James’ nose. “We just met; it’s normal for me to give you a blowjob,” James managed to choke on air when he heard Q say that, “but it is not normal for you to get that attached to me.”

 

Q had been right with his guess about their reaction just as James had been right in assuming that everyone would start propositioning him. The only reason why he hadn’t charged anyone was because Q was gently massaging his neck, pushing his head against the side of his neck, pretending to be overly shy as he whispered calming words in his ear.

 

They continued to play poker, James losing a few more games before starting to get his revenge in the form or robbing them blind, ordering the most expensive drinks on the menu to get everyone as wasted as possible.

 

Two hours after midnight, Q whispered to James that it was time for them to leave, nibbling his ear and sneaking his fingers in his shirt and oh God, bid Bond love this exit strategy. To make it more believable - and he will swear this in front of the firing squad in front of which he was going to end up because that was his main thought as he did this, no matter the amount of pleasure he felt while doing it - he rearranged Q in his lap and very obviously ran his hand down his back, cupping his ass and giving it a good squeeze.

 

“You are lucky I understand the direness of our situation, Bond,” Q whispered and James felt horrible.

 

“Are you repulsed?” James asked, moving his hands far away from Q’s ass and leaning back to look at Q.

 

That was when he noticed that Q was blushing and that he was holding his purse over his lap. “Although this is a normal reaction, I am not going to run in the shower and wash myself for the next five hours to get the feel of you off of me.”

 

“You two are adorable; can I watch the whole show if I offer you $50,000 each?” The owner interrupted them and if Q wasn’t looking at James with a face that clearly promised hell if he did what he thought about doing, he would have jumped over the table and beat him into unconsciousness.

 

“With all due respect, that might cost me my fortune since my father has strict rules,” Q said softly, looking shyly at the owner.

 

The man looked ready to argue and probably try to offer them more, but James started to talk with the dealer about how he wanted his money - large bills, in a new suitcase which would be paid from his winnings. “Also, take two thousands out of them a tip for you and five hundred for each of the five waiters that saw to us. One thousand for the bodyguard who kept tossing out all the men who did not understand that they were unfit for my little Jacqueline.”

 

He then promptly left, pulling Q after him, managing to move fast enough to get their phones back and jump in his boat to avoid getting cornered by the owner who was so drunk at this point that he couldn’t take a single step without feeling sick and needing someone to hold him up - and yet he could still talk without slurring.

 

The boat was cutting through the water so fast that Q was afraid he’d get thrown out of the boat – a horrible time to admit that he did not know how to swim in James’ opinion – and he clung tightly to the agent, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

 

“Quartermaster, was your mission successful?” The boat driver asked, looking back at them which did get a squeak out of Q, squeezing the life out of James by this point. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll keep my eyes ahead.”

 

James slowly edged to the front of the boat with Q holding for dear life to him and gave the man’s purse to the driver. He received an identical one back – just in case they were going to be followed – the man telling him that Q had requested an actual gun with a silencer as a bonus for him.

 

Q was green by the time they reached the island where James was staying and he was a bit wobbly on his feet, so it seemed that he was going to use James like a crutch for some time – much to James’ pleasure because when Q was holding on to him like this, he truly felt like what he did brought peace of minds to others, like he was truly protecting someone.

 

“I think I hate boats more than I hate planes right now,” he whimpered. “Or just the way he drives, I am not quite sure.”

 

James had the perfect plan about how they could clear that mystery up and it involved just the two of them and a small yacht out on sea for two weeks. Because really, if Q was called back to London, that would be a dick move and James would fight M for it. The poor man had been forced to pretend to be a woman for whatever reason, forced to face people who were three times his size muscle-wise and to put up with James running his hands all over him.

 

Q elbowed him. “Second time you space out when I am talking to you, Bond. Am I that boring?”

 

James grinned. “I’d have to be insane to consider a man like you boring, Q. For a boffin, you get your hands as dirty as a double oh and I was thinking about how to convince M to let you have an extended vacation. You have the best team—”

 

Q snorted. “I do and that is why R is the leader of them for the rest of this mission. But your senses must be getting dull because I, a mere boffin, picked up the three people who are definitely following us since we pulled into port.”

 

James managed to sneak a peek behind his shoulder and sure enough, three very obvious suspicious men were trying to blend in with the background as they followed them. Pulling Q closer to him and pretended to nuzzle his ear when in fact, he was sharing his plan.

 

“You’re spending the night with me,” he whispered, accidentally planting a kiss on Q’s ear.

 

“Seeing that this is not the island I was vacationing on, that went without saying, Bond,” Q pointed out, kissing his neck. “If Eve and Bill somehow manage to see this, you’re going to be castrated no matter what I say.”

 

James stopped suddenly and twirled Q, pulling him into the hotel hallway where he stopped right in front of a security camera. “I’d give my life to keep you safe, Quartermaster. My balls are nothing compared to that.”

 

Q shook his head, pushing James into the elevator just as their stalkers walked in. “I promise to dip them in gold and put them on my wall.”

 

“I assure you that my balls would be more than honoured and all the other double oh agents will die of envy,” James said seriously and Q lost it, leaning on him as he laughed in that addicting and pure way of his.

 

The second he stepped in his room, he sensed that something was off. He pushed Q behind him and motioned to be quiet, pulling the gun out from his purse as he checked to be sure that they were truly alone.

 

“Clear,” he muttered, but something still felt off and he kept Q behind him as he started to check for bugs.

 

Q caught on and jumped on James’ bed, winking. “Oh, James…” He moaned, trying really hard not to laugh. “Yes,” he breathed out, bringing his arm to his mouth, starting to make really loud kissing noises, rocking in the bed.

 

It took James a moment to catch himself and resume his search, finding it really hard to focus because of the noises Q was making and the way he was calling out his name. Did Q really sound like this when he was gracing someone with his body? Could he make Q moan louder, beg harder? Would he whimper, hold him close, roll his eyes as he found just that right spot that made his partners see stars and forget themselves? Would he ever get to find out?

 

“James, _hurry_ ,” Q pleaded as he tossed one of his lace up flats at his head to get his attention so he could see him point at his purse. “I don’t think I can last longer,” he added, now jumping on the bed, his moaning getting louder.

 

James started to take out all sort of normal looking things and showed them to Q, the man nodding wildly at something that looked like a credit card, motioning that he should pull it open. It turned out to be a device that detected bugs and five minutes later, James was crashing the tenth and last bug, Q falling back in the bed, finishing off a fantastical fake orgasm.

 

“Be honest: you used to work as a sex hotline back when they used to be a thing,” James teased, pulling a bottle of water from the mini fridge and resting it against Q’s calf. “You shaved.”

 

Q took the bottle and finished it in one hungry gulp, hoisting his dress up and lifting his legs for James to see. “Yes, Captain Obvious, since I am wearing a dress.” He ran his hands over his right leg, sighing. “And I will never do it again because my legs itch and burn at the same time. Don’t suppose the great James Bond has some lotion for his suffering Quartermaster?”

 

Of course he’d let out a long suffering sight, complete with an arm thrown over his face in the most dramatic way possible. “I do and I also have some clothes for you, just in case you don’t plan on sleeping in that lovely dress of yours or fully naked.” He threw a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants of Q’s head. “However, I don’t have an Oscar.”

 

“Hm, a thing you have in common with Leonardo DiCaprio,” Q remarked, sticking his tongue out as he tried to reach behind and unzip his dress.

 

James did it in a single, fluid motion and without looking at him. “As do you so you could say that by association _we_ have something in common.” He turned to flash Q a smile, catching the dress thrown at him before it hit his face. “That’s not how it’s done, Q. You’re supposed to sway your hips to a repetitive beat and slowly—” He got hit in the face with Q’s fake breasts. “I was really hoping they would explode.”

 

Q finished ungluing the second fake breast from his chest and tossed it to James, snorting when the man shoved them in his shirt. “You have a long process ahead of you if you want to be a believable woman, Bond. “

 

“Well, you were a gorgeous woman that put all the others in that room to shame. Of course, you are an even gorgeous man.” He walked next to Q, grabbing his arms to shop him from scratching his chest. “Do I have to tie you down to keep you from hurting yourself?” He whispered in Q’s ear, mesmerized by the man’s eyes.

 

He was expecting to either get smacked or kissed at this point and when Q pulled his hands free, he braced himself and cussed his actions because Q was sure to put up a wall between them after this.

 

What he didn’t expect was for Q to stick his tongue out at him and start to scratch his chest, his eyes rolling in the back of his head as he moaned in pleasure. “Just two more times and then I’ll stop, I promise,” he whined, slowly backing away from him. “I just need to take a bath to get rid of this awful glue, but I can’t do that until I take this bloody wig off and I can’t focus on it because it _itches_.”

 

It was in these moments of absolute safety, when there was no trace of any immediate danger when Q dropped his guard and his innocence and purity shone through, reminding James that despite all the wonderful equipment the man created and how dangerous he was behind a computer, he was still pretty much a civilian.

 

James wrapped his arms around his waist and dragged him into the bathroom, Q struggling only for a moment. “Tell me again how you don’t have spots?” Q kicked the back of his legs and he threw a wet towel at his face. “Hold that around your chest while we work on your wig. It should make the itching bearable.”

 

Thirty minutes and a sink filled with an unbelievable amount of bobby pins, contact lenses abandoned on the side of it, Q was enjoying a bubble bath while James balanced on the edge of the tub, trying to wipe his face clean of all make up.

 

“I’m going to have to sneak away before dawn so no one can see that you actually brought up here a man,” Q hummed, slowly starting to sink in the tub. “I’ll have to erase all the security footage, so here’s to hoping that no room gets broken into tonight.”

 

“Not the first time that happens, Q.” He winked at him, ruffling his hair. “However, you’re the last person who I would treat like a one night stand and do you really think I am going to let you sneak away in the middle of the night when we were followed here?”

 

Q sat up suddenly, James turning around so fast that he almost slipped and fell in the tub with him. “I completely forgot about them.” He hopped out of the tub and walked back into the bedroom, James doing his best not to give into temptation and take a peek at his bear ass as he followed him around with a bathrobe. “They clearly work for the casino, but it’s impossible for their boss to have found out so fast what we did.”

 

“They’re probably here for the suitcase full of money,” he pointed out, finally managing to get the bathrobe around Q. “No match for me, as you well know…” He trailed off when he noticed that Q wasn’t paying attention to him since he was too busy pushing his face up against the phone as he typed something. “I have a laptop.”

 

“That’s going to make things much easier for me, thank you.” He sat down on the bed and flashed James a small smile when the laptop was placed in front of him, quickly getting lost in whatever he was doing.

 

Q’s presence had an _effect_ on him. Well, to be fair, it was more than just a single effect and while one was constant but ignored, the other depended on the situation Q was in.

 

If Q was in danger, he saw red in front of his eyes and fought harder to get to him. If he was stressed, annoyed or angry he tried to relax and calm him down with tea or outright starting to rub his back – if they alone since the one time he did that when R was in the room, he was shocked by both her and Q. If he was upset, James started to spill the worst one-liners he could think of to get him to laugh. And most importantly, if Q was relaxed then so was he.

 

That was why he dozed off without meaning to, the little melody that Q had the habit of humming without realizing every time he worked on something he deemed important and forgot that a world around him still exited not helping James keep his eyelids open.

 

“Done!” Q announced loudly as he slammed the laptop shut which startled James awake – the agent barely held back from throwing Q on the floor and himself over him to be his shield, thinking at first that someone had broken in. “Sorry; I didn’t know you fell asleep.”

 

“Not a problem,” James muttered, rubbing his eyes. “What did you finish?”

 

“I created an alarm system by connecting your phone to the security cameras from this hotel and also installing a miniature program that is set to recognize our three stalkers by their size, way they walked and faces.” He radiated with pride and for good reason. “If any of those three get off on this floor or enter this hotel through anything _but_ the front door, your phone will go off and you will have instant access to the camera that caught them.”

 

“Brilliant as usual, Q,” James praised him, unable to hold back from running his hand through his damp hair. “You’re going to catch a cold and spend the rest of your vacation in bed if you don’t dry it properly.”

 

“It’s almost dry and I am flying back to London tomorrow night—”

 

“One comes from a vacation well rested and healthy, not sick as a dog,” he interrupted Q, going to fetch the hair dryer and a towel. “And I think you can convince M to give you at least one more week off, seeing that you were basically the main agent on this mission although you shouldn’t have been.”

 

He walked back in to Q looking embarrassed as he chewed on his lower lip. “I didn’t say that my vacation was over, Bond. Just that I am flying back to London tomorrow. I have one more week off which I plan on spending in my apartment.”

 

Oh, that’s right; Q was, compared to him, poor. A horrible thing to think, but the truth nonetheless. A ridiculous truth, seeing that MI6 should pay its Quartermaster a ridiculous amount to keep him loyal – not that Q would ever betray them for money, but it was a good excuse to get them to raise his salary.

 

But right now the fact that Q was underpaid was beyond perfect. “Spend it with me.”

 

Q frowned. “Did you hit your head when you were fighting those men? Hm, that can’t be it since I was watching you the entire time and no one got near your head. Then maybe you are drunk?”

 

He walked up to him and leaned close to smell his breath and James just threw what he was holding on the bed, pulled Q close and kissed him. And it was as electrifying as he thought it would be, the world starting to spin around him when the man parted his lips, kissing him back. It didn’t go beyond that, even though the little noises Q let out and the way he rubbed against him without realizing it made it extra hard to stop.

 

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” James breathed out against Q’s lips. “I adore you; you are the world to me.” He cupped Q’s face and kissed his nose, loving the way the man glued himself to him, hiding his face in his chest.

 

“I’m happy to hear that since I’m head over heels with you, which should be obvious since I break all the rules that MI6 has when it comes to you,” Q admitted and James felt like he was floating. “Hope you’re not allergic to cats and I am still flying to London tomorrow night.”

 

James laughed, actually laughed, throwing himself in the bed with Q on top of him. “I have to inform you that you are plagued with me from now on until you tell me to bugger off and that I also remember you drunkenly telling me about your two cats and about how they love sleeping on the _only_ two suits you own.” He practically felt Q’s face turn red. “Because they are yours and only because of that, I will not stuff them when they shed over mine.”

 

Q slapped his chest and rolled off of him, plugging the hair dryer. “If you so much look wrongly at my babies, I’ll have you sleeping in a cardboard box.”

 

James glued himself to Q’s back, wrapping his arms around him, trailing little kisses on his neck. “Quartermaster, darling Quartermaster, won’t you allow a poor soul crash on your sofa until his wonderful partner forgives him for a horrible misunderstanding? I promise to bring back most of my equipment on my next mission.”

 

Q turned the hair dryer in James’ direction and turned it on, huffing. “I am sure that attempt will end up with you almost dead, so please don’t.”

 

James chuckled, running his fingers through Q’s hair to help him dry it. “I always do my best to come back to you, or at least let you know that I am still alive. And I won’t pick on your babies; I’ll fight them for your love and attention, but I won’t hurt them.”

 

Hair dried, lips swollen from being almost constantly kissed, and swimming in his shirt, Q nestled close to James and fell asleep even before the covers were pulled up. The day had taken its toll on him, that much was obvious, and he had seen more action then James wished.

 

James had just closed his eyes, finally satisfied with how many times he’d brushed his lips against Q’s temple and with how long he’d played with his hair, when his phone buzzed. At first, he was tempted to ignore it, shutting it down if the caller insisted again, but then he remembered what Q had done to it and he checked it, almost breaking it when he saw that their stalkers had returned. And they had brought two more people with them, one which could easily be labelled as a mammoth.

 

Careful not to wake Q up, James snuck out of bed, grabbed the gun and a knife from the small kitchen area and pulled the door open, shooting in the guy who was getting ready to jimmy the lock right in the face. Needing a few moments to realize what had happened, they allowed James to stab another one in the neck and lodge his knife in the shoulder of the biggest one. But that was everything he managed to do.

 

His gun was kicked out of his hand and he was punched in the face hard enough to see little white dots for a moment. The large man turned his wounded shoulder away from James and used his good side to ram into him, pushing him back inside the room and to the ground.

 

He pushed his fingers in the man’s eyes and started to hit him repeatedly in the balls until the attacker pulled back, successfully pulling the knife out and rolling away just in time to avoid getting his head stepped on.

 

A third man went down for the count when James managed to shove the knife in his neck and the fourth one ended up with his neck broken. But he was still left with the mountain and the man his hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing the life out of him even as blood dripped from his left eye.

 

“I’m going to crush you like a tomato,” the man growled in a thick accent. “And then I’m going to break every bone in your woman’s body before I crush her head.”

 

James started to struggle even harder, but the lack of air in his lungs made it impossible for him to break free. The world was starting to blur and he was cussing his existence and his bad luck because he was going to die in that one bloody mission where Q was with him and in danger.

 

Something was flung at his attacker’s and a second later, a laptop came crashing down on the man’s head with so much force that parts of the keyboard popped out. Q jumped on the man’s back, wrapped his legs as tightly as he could around his waist and proceeded to hit him over the head with the keyboard as hard as he could until the man released James and passed out.

 

Q hopped off and smacked him a few times, staggering. “No one strangles any _my_ agents when I am in the next room, especially if that agent is also my lover,” he breathed out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t wait to get back to London.”

 

James stumbled to him and wrapped his arms around him, picking him up. “Second time today you saved me,” he whispered against his lips, proceeding to kiss him. “You perfect boffin, you excellent man.” He walked him back to the bedroom and placed him on the bed, blocking his view. “Wait right here while I make sure they’re all gone and call for clean up.”

 

“Maybe a medic as well since I stepped on some shards and cut my foot,” Q called after him and James’ eyes landed on a small puddle of blood.

 

“You let him live, but I’ll kill him,” James growled. “I’ll cut off his toes—”

 

“Love, I’m going to bleed to death by the time you are finished with your revenge,” Q interrupted him, trying to use the bed sheets to stop the bleeding.

 

James still kicked him twice on his way to retrieve the gun and the phone that had fallen out of his pocket.

 

***

 

Q was going to be so happy to see her, Eve was sure. He might try to act brave and claim that airplanes didn’t bother him so much now, but she knew that if there was no mission or needy double oh agent that needed his help – especially if that agent wasn’t the infamous 007 that her poor friend had a huge crush on – he needed at least forty-five minutes and a strong cup of tea to get his bearings if he was alone.

 

She flashed her MI6 badge to get in the zones where she wasn’t allowed, quick to assure everyone that there was no immediate danger but that there was an important package she needed to pick up – and really, there were few things in the world that she considered as important as Q.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down for a few minutes?” James’ worried voice reached her ears, surprising her. As far as she knew, the agent wasn’t scheduled to come back until next week and she hadn’t gotten any reports about him being wounded.

 

“I _almost_ enjoyed this flight, though it might have more to do with you distracting me with your mouth and not the three or so painkillers I am on,” Q slurred and giggled, Eve’s mouth falling open when she heard him let out something that was a mix between a hum and a moan.

 

“You’re still a little pale, Q. Do you want some water?”

 

“Just continue to carry me out of here before one of my minions sees this and you somehow end up as a Quartermaster kidnapper. I am really not prepared to deal with M or Bill or anyone who would want to shove paperwork down our throats,” Q slurred and Eve’s eyes finally landed on the two, not that it was too hard to miss them since James was sitting in the middle of the room with Q in his arms, nuzzling his ear.

 

But frankly, she didn’t know what shocked her more. The fact that the two were obviously in the ‘honeymoon’ period of a relationship – that had to be the real deal because James always stared a bit too much at Q. always did something to keep him from going home with whatever person he picked up when they went to bars, and James _never_ spent more time than he had to with his one night stands – or the fact that Q had a bandage around his foot.

 

Actually, she knew what to focus on. She stomped up to James – the agent startled seeing her there – and only held back from throwing the hot tea in his face because Q was his accidental shield. “How did Q get hurt?” She growled. “Our reports said that _no one_ was hurt. This is not the definition of ‘no one’, Bond.”

 

“Good to see you too, Eve. The flight was a bit bumpy over Germany, but otherwise decently pleasant, thank you for asking.” James said instead and Q giggled in his chest.

 

“Bond,” she said warningly, eyes narrowed.

 

“Just stepped on some glass when I was on my way to rescue a certain agent from having the life squeezed out of him,” Q explained quickly, smiling as he looked at James. “I may have forgotten to add that in our secondary report because I knew I’d end in Medical for no good reason.”

 

“Q, you naughty little Quartermaster.” He winked at him and turned to look at Eve with a serious expression on. “I promise that I will give him a serious scolding for this when we get home. Now if you’ll excuse us…”

 

They walked around her, James rubbing his nose against Q’s temple as the man started to whisper something and the woman felt like needed to sit down.

 

“Oh God, we’re fucked.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love <3


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